


Survival Techniques

by joufancyhuh



Series: To Know A Vael [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Ashes to Ashes kinda prequel?, DA Drunk Writing, F/M, First Meeting, Pre-Dragon Age 2, Wild Sebastian in Ferelden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16834981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Sebastian and Hawke's first meeting, retold from Sebastian's perspective.





	Survival Techniques

**Author's Note:**

> So @houseofaustrich sent me the prompt for @dadrunkwriting: “Sebastian & Hawke’s first meeting”, which is covered in Ashes to Ashes. Unfortunately, my inbox ended up eating that prompt (while I was writing it, I might add) so a week later, here we are. I still wanted to write from this prompt, so I decided to go with Sebastian’s POV from their first encounter, which was a lot more fun to write than I anticipated. Special thanks to @bardofheartdive for betaing, especially since she doesn’t know Dragon Age.

Coin exchanges hands at the stall, stolen from his many lovers since arriving to Ferelden. Food, enough for a day or two until he can find another source of income. He considers mercenary work, how fulfilling that would feel should his parents ever find out. A stab to their guts to know that the son they cast out now whores out his skills for death. **  
**

But the thought of actual work displeases him, and while an actual whore might strike a harder blow, he prefers to pick his own sexual partners. Not that the men and women in this dreary sea-side port, barely a city, aren’t without their rustic talents. The point of his excursion is to answer to no one, and getting a real job doesn’t fit in with that plan.

Sebastian polishes his newly bought apple on the arm of his shirt before taking a bite, gaze fluttering out into the crowd of those entering and leaving the city. Careful not to appear too predatory, he backs away from the market, toward the shadows of a nearby porch. This new viewpoint grants autonomy as well a better position to watch the gates.

He eats his apple, the crunch of each bite lost to the consistent buzzing of the traffic fanned out before him. His eyes search for the small details that make easy prey, and he almost spots one, but then someone touches their arm, a companion, and he loses interest.

The ideal target travels alone so he keeps searching. He spots her as soon as she walks through the gates, setting herself a little apart from others in the flow. Her mussed mud brown hair and patched clothing gives her away as a traveler, as well as the pack she throws over one shoulder. He sees no weapons, hidden or otherwise, in the folds of her outfit, dirty as it is, though her coin purse swings from a loop in her belt. It’s almost too easy.

His apple tossed aside, he leaves the shadows, intermingling with the crowd, swimming through the tide to approach her from behind. She remains oblivious, head turning this way and that as her attention pulls away by her surroundings.

She’s not terrible-looking and if he thought her local, he might even try to bed her before stealing her coin. Maybe he should feel bad, but if not him, surely some other thief would mark her as the easy target she presents herself to be.

Knife sliding down from its place in his sleeve, he brushes against her in the crowd, cutting through the purse strings in one swift motion before the bag drops into his palm.

She feels its loss immediately, reeling on him and reaching out to grab at his shirt. He manages to sidestep just in time before taking off through the crowd, weaving between the market-goers in a light run.

“You give that back!” He hears her shout behind him, and he spares a glance back to assess how much of a threat she might pose. A smile pricks at the corners of his lips when he catches her falling further and further behind, caught up in the sluggish pace of traffic.

The light catches the air she breathes, and for a second, he imagines he glimpses steam coming from between her pursed lips. He thinks it a trick of the light until her expression changes into one of horror and she’s quick to move out of the crowd. He uses the distraction to duck into a nearby alley, spying on her with interest.

She tosses an uneasy peek at the Chantry across the way, confirming his suspicions.

_Apostate._

Not that he cares. Coin is coin, but this does make her someone of interest, should she try to exact whatever brand of mage justice she might concoct. It also explains her lack of weapons.

He counts the coin in her bag. Not as much as he’d prefer, but enough to get through for two weeks. And he can always play cards down at the Pearl if he needs more.

He takes one last look at the mage, muttering to herself as she walks further into the market before he takes off toward the docks to see about acquiring a bed for the night.


End file.
